Abruptly the surgeon turned on his heel and left the cabin. Drinkwater sank into the single chair he had had brought up from the hold. Apart from dropping the cabin bulkhead, the ship remained ready for action. A bitter chill filled the cabin from the breeze that blew in, unimpeded, through the wreck of the starboard quarter gallery, battered into splinters by several cannon shot from the Yankee privateers. Drinkwater drew his cloak closer round him. His head ached and waves of blackness seemed to wash up to him, then recede again. He wanted to sleep but the cloak could no more keep out memories than the cold. He had an overwhelming desire to weep and felt a first shuddering heave.
A knock came at the door and Fisher's smoke-blackened face appeared. It momentarily crossed Drinkwater's over-stimulated imagination that this was no mortal visitor but an imp of Satan.
'Beg pardon, sir, but Kestrel’s just come alongside.' Such had been the decimation among the officers that the midshipman was keeping the anchor watch.
'Oh, yes.' Drinkwater reproached himself for having momentarily forgotten about the cutter. With an effort he pulled himself together. 'Be so kind as to ask her commander to report aboard.' His voice cracked and he hoped the boy could not see in the gloom the tears filling his eyes.
Aye, aye, sir ...'
'By the way, what's the wind doing?'
'Flat calm, sir.'
'Good. Very well, cut along.'
After Kennedy, it would be good to talk to Quilhampton. James understood the brutal and unavoidable priorities of a sea-officer's duty. A few minutes later there was a second knock.
'Come in, James.'
But it was Frey who came into the bare cabin.
CHAPTER 13
Failure
Drinkwater knew the worst from Frey's expression. The young lieutenant was grimy from powder smoke, his cheeks smeared and pale, his eyes wild.
'How did it happen? Tell me from the beginning.'
Drinkwater hauled himself out of his chair and went to the settee placed below the stern windows. The shutters were pulled and a single battle lantern lit the unfurnished space. Lifting one of the padded settee seats he rummaged and withdrew a half-full bottle. Extracting the cork, he handed the bottle to Frey and gestured to the settee.
'The glasses are all stowed. Please, sit down ...'
Frey took the bottle and swigged greedily, sat and offered it to Drinkwater who shook his head. Frey took a second draught and then cradled the bottle on his lap.
'We followed you directly into the bay and threw several shots among the boats with some success.' Drinkwater nodded; he remembered seeing this and then Kestrel running out towards them as Andromeda bore down into the bay to anchor and bombard the enemy ships.
'We sustained some damage from the Americans and lost three men killed and two wounded before we extricated ourselves. Then we tacked in your wake and came back astern of you. From what we saw you achieved complete surprise. The Danes seemed uncharacteristically irresolute.'
'Their decks were cluttered with armaments they were transhipping to the Americans and they had many of their men away in the boats.'
'Yes. By the time you had come to your anchor the boats had retreated to their respective ships and I had no specific targets. As we bore down, I went aft to obtain fresh orders. The smoke from your guns drifted into the anchorage and made it difficult to see what was going on. To round your stern would have put us uncomfortably close under the guns of the Americans, so James tacked offshore a little, intending to beat back into the bay across your bow and see if anything advantageous offered.
'We managed to lay a course that not only took us across Andromeda's bow, but also carried us athwart the hawse of the Odin. All the recovered boats were lashed alongside her starboard waist in the security of her unengaged side. It was also fair to assume the gunners on that side would be helping their mates on the other, for she was by then putting forth a furious fire.
' "We will cut those boats up, tack and get out before they know what has happened," James ordered, and in we went. I depressed our carronades and James took her in like a yacht. I had time to prime my gun captains and we swept in with terrific effect!
'I'm not certain how many of those boats we smashed but their big launch was definitely sunk, along with two cutters and possibly a third. As soon as we were past, James put the helm over. We could do nothing else and . . .' Frey's voice faltered.
'You put your stern to the enemy.'
Frey nodded. 'They had woken to our presence and we received fire from their quarterdeck cannon. Langridge swept the length of the deck; James, both helmsmen and a dozen others fell. The boat in the stern davits, the binnacle and after companionway — all shot to pieces. The boom's bespattered with the damned stuff and the foot of the mains'l in tatters.'
Frey paused and shuddered at the recollection. He took another swallow from the bottle. 'We missed stays…'
Drinkwater could imagine the confusion. With no hand on the tiller, Kestrels rudder would have swung amidships and the turning moment applied to the cutter would have ceased. She would have sat, a perfect target, at something less than pistol shot, off the Odin's starboard quarter.
'I went aft and put the helm over to make a stern board and we backed the jib, but we were too close under the land to get a true wind and she blew towards the Odin and paid off to starboard again, back on our former tack. We took another storm of raking fire . . .'
It was a marvel that Frey had not been hit, Drinkwater thought, watching him take a fourth swig from the nearly emptied bottle.
"Then your shot from Andromeda brought down the Odin's fore and main topmasts and her fire slackened perceptibly. Anyway, Kestrel paid off fast to starboard and we cleared the Odin's stern, thank God! My next problem was the Americans. The Yankees were doing their best, though their fire was nothing compared to the Odin's. They soon saw us though, coming out of the smoke on the Odin's starboard quarter, and quickly laid their guns upon us. I couldn't risk running under their lee, so I gybed and got her on to a broad, starboard reach…'
'You sailed across the bows of the Americans and across their field of fire?'
Frey tensed, nodding unhappily. 'I wanted only to get out of that accursed bay, damn it!'
'I am not judging you, my dear fellow,' Drinkwater said with a gentle resignation.
Frey relaxed visibly. 'We returned fire,' he said with a shred of pride, 'but lost our topmast and were badly hulled...'
'And the butcher's bill?'
'Almost half the ship's company killed or wounded, sir.'
'God's bones,' Drinkwater whispered, rubbing his hand across his face. He looked at Frey. 'And what of James?'
'It must have been instant, sir. He was quite shot to pieces
A heavy silence lay between the two men as they mourned their mutual friend. The bottle dropped from Frey's hand with a thud, recalling Drinkwater to the present. Frey drooped sideways, fast asleep. Drinkwater rose and lifted his legs out along the settee, settling him down. Then he took his cloak and laid it over Frey, tucking it in to prevent him from rolling off the narrow settee. As he took his hands away they were sticky with blood.